


Doubts and Scars

by greatgreenjewel



Category: Red Dead Redemption, Red Dead Redemption 2
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-06 00:27:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17335238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greatgreenjewel/pseuds/greatgreenjewel
Summary: John's heart is torn in two, picking between the mother of his child and the woman he loves, leaving him with an ultimate choice to make.





	1. Chapter 1

“That’s the _worst_ idea, you asshole.” ( _Y/N_ ) spoke out around the crackling campfire, crossing her arms in annoyance, and aiming it to Micah and his ridiculous idea of how they should hit this bank.

“Stop it, you two!” Dutch fired back, ending the discussion right then and there. “We do as I say- and I say only!” He spoke with his lungs. “That is the order.” Dutch tucked his pocket watch back in and walked off to his tent, leaving them to get dinner alone.

 

Pearson’s slop was stomach-turning enough,the argument only seemed to make it worse.

“Rabbit stew tonight, Miss ( _Y/N_ ).” He smiled, lifting his ladle in a swig of taste.

“Thank you, Pearson.” She nodded her head in a grateful fashion.

Handing her the metal spoon, Pearson left and Micah entered. Suddenly the dim, warm luminescence of the campfire could not be bright enough.

“You sure got a lot of shit to say for a lady-“ He paused, looking her up and down with his hooded eyes- hiding below his hat, stalking at all times. Micah’s hands rest on his belt buckle, tinkering with the hardware. He sucked his bottom lip through his teeth and took three uncomfortable steps forward before speaking again.

“If you’re going to keep running your mouth like that, I can think of a few ways to make you shut up.” He whispered his moonshine-drowned, chewing tobacco-stained breath down her collarbone.

   ( _Y/N_ ) took a step of her own, their noses almost touching. “You fuckin’ wish.” She smirked into a small chuckle. Brushing past him with her tin of soup, she felt a clench come down on my forearm.

“We got a problem ‘ere?” John’s voice chimed in, echoing louder than he probably intended. It was higher than it normally is, ( _Y/N_ ) could almost feel how hot his blood had gotten. Micah’s didn’t let his grasp up, still holding on tight enough there’ll be a distinctive mark tomorrow.

“When the lights go out an’ everyone’s asleep, an’ no one can catch you doin’ it, you make sure you curl up to him nice an’ tight tonight.” Micah whispered low enough that it was just between the two of us. “I’d hate to hear about anythin’ happenin’ to you..” He trailed off, licked his lips, and finally let go of her skin.

“Naw, Johnny-Boy. Was just real excited for dinner is all.” Micah said walking to Baylock before swinging his leg over him and riding off into the dark.


	2. Chapter 2

  A warm breeze blew through the air of Clemens Point, carrying Pearson’s slop of swill with it on its tail. The smell turned John’s stomach as he trucked through it in order to find his misplaced cargo. His hunting knife, which was once near and dear to a younger Arthur, was a gift that sat on his hip usually. He remembered skinning the community dinner earlier, before huffing off to replace Lenny on guard duty.

  Retracing his steps, the chopping block was clean and so was Pearson’s setup. He thought back to visiting the crew’s tents throughout the day, and started there. Arthur’d be pissed if he knew, so he slyly checked on him as he scraped away the stubbles of his beard with the straight razor and pail of stream water. Small talk carried on about the healing scars across John’s face as his eyes skimmed the table-top matters.

  With no luck but a picture of Mary and a few cigarette cartons, John pat Arthur on his shoulder and moved onto the next. John thought back to the glimmering smile that had made his heart skip for the first time in years, trailing involuntarily towards her hanging tarp. With no sign of ( _Y/N_ ), John let himself in- brushing the hanging canvas that once clothed and covered a stagecoach out of his face, he had a sense of stealth. Quickly, his fingers worked lifting this and that to recover his loved piece, finding themselves tracing the top of an emerald green trunk.

  John knew the minute he opened this chest, trust was over. It felt dirty to impede her privacy, it felt so wrong. He knew of Abigail, and he knew how much she resented him. For Jack’s sake, John restrained himself from the saloon girls and harlots through the lands- but ( _Y/N_ ).. she had a new and tight hold on him. His teeth nicked his bottom lip, and popped open the unlocked steamer. Unfolding an array of clothing choices, on top sat a pair of silk, posy pink panties.

  A second wave of stomach knots rushed John, waves of adrenaline, lust and interest overtook his flushed blood. Picking up the pair, ever so softly, John let out a groan. They had just been cleaned, no doubt by washboard and warm hands. The silk cloth swam around his fingers, sinking him deeper and deeper into impure thoughts, forgetting where he stood. It was a lost cause at this point, John made it this far and would kick himself if he didn’t find out now- the satin, sweet but sexy, fabric spread and sat just beside his stache. Inhaling, a scent of her sweetness rushed through John’s body like a drug- forcing his eyes to close and ache for more. From lungs to lower, John felt himself push against his belt buckle- waking him up and bringing him back to reality. Just in time, as he heard Sadie’s approaching voice speak to ( _Y/N_ ). He tucked the pair into his pocket and went through the back slit.

  Singing cicadas surround John’s hidden cot, drowning out his torn heart. Bound to the mother of his child, he watched from the slat as Abigail put Jack to bed beside her own lump. Guilt entered his core, knowing how brisk it can get at night and cozy coverage can be. He didn’t want to think about it anymore. John rest his left arm behind his head and gazed through the triangular crack of his canvas sheets. (Y/N) walked by with chicken feed and soon started to scatter the scraps to the birds. John’s eyes watched each and every jolt her hips had as she pitched from her hand, remembering what it felt like to have them straddle his own.

  It was only a few times, sure- and each time was under lock and key afterwards, making sure no one was to know of it. These thoughts tortured his soul, remembering how her locks of hair feel in the grasp of his intertwining fingers, lightly pulling and she sits in his bare lap, riding up and down his thick member, calling out his name in a hot whimper.

   _“John,” His mind replayed like the old phonograph in Dutch’s tent._

_“Oh, God, John..” She moaned into his ear, tugging on his earlobe with her teeth. Hot breath tickled down his neck, forcing his thighs to tighten down as he grew even more._

  Like before, blood coarsed against his denim and he had realized how uncomfortable he had become. Sitting up, he kicked off his jeans and retrieved the gift from earlier. Pitching them to his lap, John unbuttoned his sunset vest to allow his muscles to move freely as he tensed with desire. His hands couldn’t move fast enough, pulling at the trinkets he had attached to his body, trying to come undone to touch himself to the burning need ignited inside of him.

  Spit hocked into his palm and just like that he was back in the past.

   _Moans gasped through the cool night as (Y/N) inhaled at the cool and damp feeling of John’s saliva touch her already wet enough dripping cunt lips. He tongued just to make sure she was ready for him._

Saliva warmed John’s cock, creating a friction between both his member and his calloused hand.

   _“Fuck!”_  He yelled out louder than he should have at the strokes he put on himself. He knew better than to be heard, but a part of him wanted to be. A part of him wanted (Y/N) to come crawling into his secretive tent and ride his hips again the way she does so God damn well in that thoroughbred’s saddle of hers. Glancing up, his eyes met her now turned breast and he had lost it then. John clenched the satin panties and sucked in the second high of her smell- like inhalant chemicals to a junkie, two hits and he was hooked. His grip tightened around his cock, tugging harder and faster, up and down his length, heaving his chest with the amount of air loss he huffed off with each pleasure bolt shooting up his spine.

  “Fuck, come on.” He begged in a whimper, looking a second time at her chest. He remembers so perfectly how beautiful they look when she start to sweat from all of the work she puts into him. Drops of dew run down from her collarbone and he knows just how they taste when he kisses her there. Reminiscing of softness, John wondered how silk would feel against his head. In a state of euphoria, he wrapped his cock in the satin and tugged long and slow strokes out from his base. An involuntary groan spilled out into existence from his core.

_“Does Abigail do this for you?”_

  Vulgar teases played through his mind, recalling how lovely her throat feels when it hugs him so smoothly- he couldn’t take it anymore. Ropes of milky white cum shot into a pretty pastel pink. John sat back, catching his breath when he looked up a final time. ( _Y/N_ ) petted the last bird and pulled up her pant leg, revealing a treasure. At the tip of her fingernails sat the polished blade that belonged to him, twirling it, she thought of him, too. John scoffed in surprise, wondering where she had swiped it from and happy with the hands that held it. In that moment, ( _Y/N_ ) looked to the pine green tent- not able to see him. He saw her, standing below the shining stars, knowing that she was all he ever wanted to see again- happy with the idea of seeing her and her  _only_  from now on. A pinch on the side of her smile formed. John knew what he wanted, pulled up his denim and pulled aside the entryway.

  For a split second, they just stood there, knowing that they had caught the other red handed. Wordlessly, John tilted his head to invite her inside after checking the grounds for lingerers. ( _Y/N_ )’s hips swayed walking between the split, and once more as she tip-toed to kiss his lips.

  “I heard you were lookin’ for this, cowboy.” ( _Y/N_ ) said, coyly.


	3. Chapter 3

  Hungover-type glares of sun beamed through the triangular split in John’s tent. He squeezed his eyelids together, creating a few more crow’s feet he’ll be sure to see in the years to come. A rocking shake pushed atop his rib cage, widening his eyes even further.

  “John,” An all too familiar voice called.

  “Abigail?” John questioned, unsure if he was even awake.

  “Get up. Why’re you sleepin’ so late?” She asked, rhetorically with a hint of annoyance. “Jack wants to go to the lake and catch a few fish, and Arthur isn’t here.”

  “You don’t need Arthur!” John lashed back at Abigail’s snide but true comment, rubbing his eyes with his grime-coated fingertips. “Give me a minute, woman.” He said, sitting up and recalling the last moments he spent awake last night. Remembering the visit, John instantly planted his foot to the dirt patch floor- stepping on the pair of silk panties and sliding them as far back below as his leg would allow him to.  _“Not one damn minute awake..”_ John thought to himself, too tired to keep up.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Abigail said, leaving to gather Jack and the supplies.

  Small but sincere white-capping waves toppled over on themselves once they reached the shore of Flat Iron Lake. Kieran fed Jack rumors about a monster Bluegill swimming in these parts, and Jack ate it up to the point of no return. The boy cast and cast, baiting the end of his line with five cent worms, over and over again- showing no sign of stopping until the prize was his. Abigail watched on as the boys got along, John showing Jack how to perfectly feed to worm into the hook so it wouldn’t get lost in the wind or water. A sparkle shined in Abigail’s eyes for the first time in years.

  “John,” She called with a smile.

  John tuned, wondering if he had done something misplaced or not to her approval. He was surprised to see her sitting there, smiling, piddling with a single stone in her hands. She sat on the sand and had her knees to her chest, reminding him of how youthful she could be and was when they first met. He matched her smile and joined her on the ground.

  “You used to uh-“ He paused, reconsidering if he should continue the sentence. “Sit like that, with your knees up,” He pointed to them with a lazy index finger lift. “When you were getting’ ready for Jack. Somethin’ about your pelvis.” He trailed off, trying his best.

  “Don’t you talk about my body, John Marston.” She giggled, cutting the act for once. Pulling the pin from her hair, her umber-toned strands fell past her shoulders with a shake. John smiled to himself, looking back to Jack who was pitching rocks across the water.

  Three skips this time, Jack’s pebble made it before he felt a second squeeze from Abigail’s hand today. A little lower, this one was, above his kneecap and below his belt rest her palm and nails. John brought his attention back to her face, not daring to say a word. A twinge of the corners of her cherry and plump lips sparked an old flame again.

  _“Is that lipstick..”_  John thought, realizing that Jack was a ploy.

  “Abigail..” He tried steering, but couldn’t resist the nostalgic flood of memories of what used to be. Leaning into her, the tips of their noses skimmed each other as sounds popped between their teeth. John rushed his hands to her cheeks, deepening the kisses further down the turmoil rabbit hole. “Abigail..” He tried again, but clouded judgement called for this to come out in a whine. She took it as a go ahead. John’s vest slammed against the ground as Abigail lie on top of him, sure not to touch his still-healing scars. Forcibly, he sat up only to pause the moment long enough to tell Jack to run back up to Uncle Arthur, that they’d continue fishing another time.

  Gun oil dripped from the gilded container, smearing it with a washcloth, (Y/N) scrubbed the hammer and shaft of her Cattleman. Sitting on top of an old stump, she frequently glanced up towards Dutch, Bill, Javier and Arthur to guess what they were discussing- this time Jack topped the hill and wrapped himself around Arthur’s leg.

 _“No John.. No Abigail..”_  ( _Y/N_ ) thought to herself, thinking nothing of it other than Abigail up to her usual bitchin’ with him.

  Finishing the lacquer touches, she rose from her seat and slid the polished gem into her holster. A slight giggle caught her attention, and what next made it stay. The pair topped the trail Jack used from the beach and this time they weren’t arguing. No marks insured arguments- but instead a few of something else. John’s hand rest at the base of Abigail’s back, leading her to the group with a smile on his face.

  “Huh..” ( _Y/N_ ) scoffed.  _Pain_ shot through her chest as if she had been gunned down from a God damn O’Driscoll- seeming as if that would have been the easier choice of the two. Abigail said her goodbyes to the cluster before making her way to her own. With her, stood Karen, Tilly and Mary-Beth. John’s eyes met ( _Y/N_ )’s long enough for him to know.

  Giggles of laughter peaked out from the low-toned conversation, Karen being the loudest to give it away. Tilly’s jaw dropped at the phrase Abigail spoke. Sweet and innocent- possibly clueless- Mary-Beth hugged Abigail in her arms, wishing her well in hopes of them working out.

  “I’ve missed him.” Abigail added before turning to John a last time, starstruck with love all over again.

  Nausea turned into anger, and anger turned into rage. An unintended action from ( _Y/N_ )’s legs drove her in his direction. Caution to the wind- she had nothing left to lose that she didn’t already just now. John’s form tensed, knowing it was over.  Preparing for the worst, he stood still- ready to take it in front of everyone, clenching a jaw for the receiving it was about to collect.

  Blowing only a brief past John, both of ( _Y/N_ )’s hands cupped Javier’s face into a hold- dragging it into her own. Tongues collided passionately, as if they had done this before. Javier rocked just enough to step back on one foot, bringing enough resilience to push his hips into hers and seal his stance with a hand tugging to bring ( _Y/N_ )’s body impossibly closer than it already was. With her eyes closed, it worked wonders on drowning out the gasps and shock of every other gang member. She heard Karen whistle and the girls giggle even more. Finally pulling away, Javier stood still for a moment.

  “I just couldn’t go on any longer without tellin’ Javier how I _really_  feel..” ( _Y/N_ ) bullshitted her words as she turned to the surround group to give her speech. “And seeing Abigail and John..” She paused to make sure she had  _everyone’s_ attention. “Just made it feel so right..” She smiled through her pain, showing off her poisonous and pearly teeth. Shifting towards John, she somehow smiled even wider- to the point where her cheeks hurt- thanking him for the moment.

  Like every nocturnal night, the stars present the gift of light and God’s grace to see. The overpriced bar of soap suddzed in the tub of water next to the washboard. John and Abigail suggested doing the community chore of laundry for the gang this week and the last articles of clothing were scrubbed. Abigail threw a final fabric into John’s already full basket before kissing his cheek and grabbing her own. Together, they walked from the shore back to the tents.

  A single, soft pant called from one of the privates. Abigail chuckled under her breath, instantly realizing what it was- and who. It took a second one for John to.

  “Javier.. Oh, fuck yes!” ( _Y/N_ ) moaned as obnoxiously as she could. “Right there.. don’t stop!” She begged when John’s eyes met their bodies silhouette- clearly seeing her bouncing breasts as she rode him through the tan and almost translucent canvas. Lit by her single floor, corner lamp, John froze in the moment watching her spin her hair- flinging it loosely as she threw it back as Javier’s hand wrapped around her throat.

  “You’re so big, baby..” She whimpered as Javier sat up to match her- smearing their conjoined sweat among their chests.  _“You’re the best I’ve ever had.”_  She continued, going in for the kill.

  “Oh my! She’s wild.” Abigail said to herself, laughing more at the scene. John heard Abigail’s words, but they were off in the distance. He started to experience the exact feelings ( _Y/N_ ) had just hours before. His heart clenched, he needed a break- and quickly. Anything, he looked around for anything to make it stop. John buried his burning retinas into the laundry’s belongings- finding the first possible thing he could. On top sat a perfect, pastel and posy pink set of silk panties- just been cleaned, no doubt by washboard and warm hands.


	4. Chapter 4

  Tossing and turning, sleeping alone never bothered ( _Y/N_ ) until now. Javier had finished up and went back to his tent, boasting to Charles loudly. She never noticed how wide her cot actually was, seeing as it usually curled two instead of one on it. Only for a few hours at a time, John imprinted the bed well enough that his distinctive smell lingered in the feather, hay pillow and every time she squirmed around a cloud of his aroma puffed into the air as if it were a perfume dispenser. Tonight it’s strong.  
  
  Ridding the thoughts of him from her mind, she attempted fresh air and cool breeze- pulling her back to the real world where she was all she needed, she had made it this far without his cock and games and she was sure she could do it again. Squatting to balance her weight on her toes, she flung both palms to her face- rummaging and rearranging her cheeks and eyebrows in annoyance with how she had let herself fall for this. ( _Y/N_ ) slapped her cheeks before exhaling both lungs worth of carbon dioxide into the night. The pain was still there.

  She stood to her feet, stepped to the table by the giant oak and sat to think about what was to come.

_“Just pack your stuff and go..” (Y/N) thought._

  _“Take what (Y/H/N)’s saddlebags can carry and leave right now..” She convinced herself, feeling her throat restrict as tears welted in her ducts. Shaking, her right leg began to bounce up and down with anxiety._

_“Just go.. No one would even know until it was too late..” Her head filled with taint and unruly thoughts, flooding in and stemmed from the betrayal of not being enough._

_“Frames, lantern, canned goods-“_

  “What the hell are you doin’ out ‘ere?” His voice called, creeping towards (Y/N) until she could see his figure.

  “What the hell is it to you?” She fired back, disregarding how loud she spoke and how easy it could be to wake someone up.

  “Don’t do this.” John pleaded. “Please.”

  “Is that what you told yourself before you fucked Abigail this mornin’?” She only seemed to get louder.

  “You watch your mouth!” John yelled back through grit teeth, taking threatening strides closer to the table top- inviting himself over for a chat.

  “What’re you going to do, John?” ( _Y/N_ ) gritted back, standing straight up and slamming her hands along the wooden surface. “ _God!_  I can’t believe you!” She scoffed, attempting to pass him as he clenched down on her forearm and pulled her into him.

  “Keep it down,” He warned, holding on for dear life- knowing it may very well be the last time he ever touches her again. John’s strong hands could have snapped her lips a twig if he wanted to, but all he was trying to ensure was that she stayed and listened.

   _“Let go.”_  ( _Y/N_ ) spat, yanking her arm from his hold and only making him tighten down harder. “Let fuckin’ go of me!” She yelled.

  In a second’s time, John had no choice other than to put his free hand to use- covering her mouth and backing her up into the trunk of the enormous arbor.

  “Shut the ‘ell up and listen to me, woman!” John whispered with anger now, though she was in no real danger.

  Sinking her thumb into John’s collarbone pressure point, ( _Y/N_ ) broke free long enough to shove into John’s undershirt. First once, knocking him back on his heels, then a second time, not as catching.

  “Not a _day,_  John!” She seethed, still shoving. “Not a _fucking day!”_  A final slam into his chest before her arms were his prisoner again. Her wrists in his lock were the only thing between their touching chests, John stood with his chin up and away- assuming she’d have to use a second idea for backup.

  “Couldn’t keep your bed cold, could you?” She said, this time not trying to shout- not trying to yell- this time, she soothes it out, narrowed her eyes, and reached a second stage of disgust with him. This time, she was going to cause him the pain he had caused her, even if it meant breaking his heart.

  “Does it get your cock hard knowing what you’re doing to us?” She whispered, looking him dead in the eye. “Do you get bored of my cunt and have to try everyone else’s?” Emotion no longer registered in her talking. “I wonder how Jack would feel knowin’ the shit you put her through.”

  Before John could respond- thankfully- a clearing of the throat stopped either of them from making matters worse.

  “John,” Arthur said, calmly, warning him to let her go.

  Clasps set free from ( _Y/N_ )’s wrists, and John sank into a pool of dismay. Realizing just how much pain he had caused her, he kissed her forehead apologetically before walking back to his tent. Arthur watched on to make sure there was nothing more of it, disappointed and disapprovingly starring at (Y/N)’s flushed face before returning to his own.  
  Looking to (Y/H/N), she saw them standing with Old Boy, and knew now wasn’t the time.

  Sound asleep, two masculine hands rip John from his slumber- shaking him awake by the shirt collar.

  “Marston, you God damn fool, wake up!” Arthur mimicked the tone from the night before, whispering with heat hot enough to get the point across, low enough to stay between the two of them. John’s initial thought was questioning who was a bigger pain in his ass when it came to sleeping: Arthur or Abigail. “Get dressed.” He ordered, smacking John’s cut up cheek before disappearing as quickly as he came.

  The first twenty or so minutes of the ride was silent aside from wildlife scurrying away at the sight of two men on horses.

  “There’s a woman out west of us,” Arthur finally broke, not looking his John’s direction as he told the story. “A friend of Mary’s from a while ago.” Arthur reminisced himself. “Can’t remember her name, ‘snot importan’. I remember how she looked, though. Beautiful woman, shoah-“ He chuckled. “Met Mary at a rancher’s get together to buy some cattle for her family farm, not sure what Mary was doin’ there but, well, anyway-“ Arthur continued. “Now, this little lady took my breath away. Young, hardworkin’ woman with ‘er daddy.” He thought back. “Caring, too. Pretty blonde hair, and you know that’s not my kind.” Arthur snickered at his own remark, looked to John to see if he were listening, and back to the trail to finish up.

  “Now, she had mentioned she needed help, a handy man who could steer her herd and break some horses here and there,” Arthur said. “‘Nd it was temptin’, alright. Good, honest work for a change.” He paused, thinking carefully of the words he chose next. Finally, he stopped his steed and looked John in the face.

  “What I had at home,” He said, retaining Mary. “I wouldn’ta risked that for anything.” Arthur pointed to John. “‘Specially if we would of had one runnin’ around.” He didn’t need to elaborate exactly what he meant.

  “It’s.. different.” John tried in a weak voice, vocals cracking as if he hadn’t had a sip of water in days.

  “It’s not.” Arthur spoke clearly, so John knew exactly where he stood on the subject. “You do your business, fine-“

  “I don’t feel anything with her anymore.” John said, cutting Arthur off mid-speech.

 _“Cut it off then, Marston!”_  Arthur furrowed his brows and lifted both arms in a slight state of confusion. “You have no ties to that woman!” He yelled, angering himself at John’s stupidity.

  “Abigail..” John sighed, admitting it for the first time.

  Shame covered Arthur’s skin, sorrow in feelings of failure in his friend pushed him to the edge.

  “Be be a better man, John. Be a better father to your boy,” Arthur huffed while picking up the reigns. “Pick one.” He ended with, clicking his teeth to ride off, leaving John to think on his own.


	5. Chapter 5

   With days passing, hops and barley slid down the back of ( _Y/N_ )’s throat in the form of draft. Drowning out the looming pinch of guilt and fear, she threw herself into the bottom of several bottles. It was nice to break away from the gang, finding herself in the Rhodes saloon.

  People piled in from the white and chipped doors- tripping up and down the steps of the spiraling staircase. Tunes played from the cherry-stained piano, a man with a grey coat tapped his fingers onto the keys. Asking the bartender for another whiskey, ( _Y/N_ )’s perception began to blur, at a perfect time. 

   From the second story came a familiar voice, yelling and yanking at the woman in his lap. Shoving her from his thighs, he stood and scurried down each step with his hand gliding down the siding. 

   _“Well, well,_  do my eyes betray me?” The sickening, expired, and tangy voice said to ( _Y/N_ )’s back. “If it isn’t _sweetest_  whore in all of Lemoyne.” Micah said, raising both his voice and arms in presentation. 

   Downing the drink, she turned to face the living scum of Earth. 

   “You shitbag,” She slurred before ordering another crystal glass of liquor. Ignoring his presence, she only faced the bar- thinking of how it would look with Micah’s blood and teeth glossing the top. 

   “Oh, don’t be like that!” He teased, still yelling, throwing himself into the chair practically on top of her. Her skin formed warning bumps as her system tried to tell her to have care. “I gotta ask,” Micah paused only to throw a single finger in the air to the tender, ordering his own. “How  _good_  is your anthill, having John always hot on your heels?” He pushed, crossing his arms atop the surface and leaning into her space. 

   “Wouldn’t you like to know?” ( _Y/N_ ) spoke rhetorically, throwing back the last poison. 

   “You know,” He breaked for effect. “It’s why I’m here.” 

   ( _Y/N_ ) second guessed her hearing as her blood had become tarry and sluggish from the intoxicants. 

   “Between the whooping cough and diphtheria, I think we’re all fightin’ off enough diseases as it it.” She shot, ignoring his pass. 

   “I’d like to find out for myself, that or maybe Abigail would.” Micah’s words hindered blackmail, laced with snares and traps, and followed them came the tangling of his fingers in her hair. 

   Snapping her head in his direction- quick enough to shake her vision- ( _Y/N_ ) bit her tongue as she told him not to touch her. He watched with amazement as her pupils grew with anger, from both the situation and present company. 

   “Firery one, aren’t you?” Micah scoffed in with a smirk, “Always was his kind, I suppose.” He continued. “Got so many on his hands now, I’m sure he’d be up to sharin’.” Micah made the fatal mistake of placing his hand on her inner thigh. 

   No matter how many drinks she had, ( _Y/N_ )’s awareness was still focused enough to slam Micah’s face into the mahogany shaded layer of wood. Pulling her knife from her side, the silver blade lie just at the hint of Micah’s Adam's apple.

  “I _told you_ not to touch me, you backwoods hillbilly.” She sneered into his eardrum. Show tunes had stopped playing and the tender drew a sawed-off shotgun from below the bar. Disregarding them, ( _Y/N_ ) slid her knife in the slightest to just barely nick the first pores of skin in a warning. “You wanna threaten me, Micah?” She raised her voice, holding her grounds. “Threaten  _me?”_  She asked again. “Run and tell Abigail, it doesn’t matter.” 

   Letting up from her position, Micah stood to his feet. 

    _“Go!”_  She yelled at him, pointing the tip of her blade towards the door before sitting again for a night’s worth of alcohol. 

   Embers burst into the air and reached the branches above as Dutch added another log to the flaming pile. Around the crowd were all members, drunk as ever, wallowing in campfire songs. Javier played the guitar and Uncle started:

_When I was just a lad you know,  
   I met a gal from old Bourdeaux,_

   Everyone cut in, now. 

_She had blonde hair and blue eyes too;  
   She let me ride on the ring-dang-do._

_The ring-dang-do, now what is that?_  
   It's soft and round like a pussycat,  
   Got a hole in the middle and it's split in two;

   ( _Y/N_ ) joined in, stuttering and slurring her words, nearly stumbling over the rocks and sticks on the ground. 

_And that's what you call the ring-dang-do._

The sound of her voice brought John’s attention to her- watching her as she tried to keep her balance, bottle in hand. After hours of thinking, he was excited to tell her the news of the sate his heart was in- knowing who exactly it belongs with and how he can’t live without her. Wanting to shout it out right then and there, John had to stop himself from speaking by biting the inner lining of his cheek. 

   “Tonight, we celebrate good fortune and health!” Dutch said to the family, tipping the rim of his glass to the crowd. Javier stopped playing, set the guitar down and the group cheered and clapped at Dutch’s toast. A single stone caught at the end of ( _Y/N_ )’s boot and tumbled her into Javier’s lap- hooking her arm around the back of his neck to keep from hitting the dirt. 

    _“Oh!”_  She giggled like a schoolgirl, kissing Javier on the cheek. Her legs lie crossed over Javier’s own- hanging off the side of the stump. Happy to see her again in hopes of getting lucky, he let his palm fall to the outer of her thigh just below her pelvis, he kissed her neck- not worrying about any other person in the world at the moment. 

   Marmalade flames danced in John’s pupils, mirroring ( _Y/N_ )’s own. The only thing between the two sat the symbolic fire of the internal hell both parties were tapped in, intertwined with one another in the level of lust. 

   Agitated with her actions, John tilted his lips toward’s Abigail’s ear in asking her if she wanted to go back to the tent. Naive and glad to see her relationship panning out, Abigail stood with John’s fingers latched between hers and walked towards the pine colored canvas. 

 

 

   Thrusts pounded into Abigail, each making John’s fingernails dig deeper into her hips with frustration and anger. 

_“You watch your mouth!” John yelled back through grit teeth.._

Groans pulled from John’s chest as he tightened his calves with each shove, losing the race between reality and flashback- driving himself into Abigail desperately to forget her fucking face. 

    _“Not a day, John!” She seethed, still shoving. “Not a fucking day!”.._

He thought, knowing he was doing the same God damn sin again, now, sure that she wasn’t too far off herself with Javier’s body. 

    _“Do you get bored of my cunt and have to try everyone else’s?”.._

  John recalled her speaking of herself, and that perfect fucking mound of hers- how tight and warm it is, no matter how many times he fucks it. He felt himself grow inside of Abigail and cried out in pain moments after pulling out of her. Cum dripped from the edge of his cock and into the floor below. 

   “John..” Abigail breathed in a pant of what came over him in the work he had just drilled into her. Scrambling for her clothing, she took a moment to sit still before speaking again.

   “I love you.” She said, quiet enough that if he hadn’t been listening he would have missed it. Pulling his jeans over his waist, he stopped. 

   Thoughts of ( _Y/N_ ) adulterated his mind, clouding his judgement on who he was even talking to. It was if breeze had blown her scent into his face, he stood in stroke thinking of her. 

   “I love you, too.” John said. 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

   North of Rhodes, John shuffled through Lonnie’s Shack and stepped over four dead bodies trying to find the stash. Cabinets and cupboard doors swung open and shut as he looked at the pickings, throwing anything valuable to sack in the middle of the house for the gang’s share. 

   He pulled at the nightstand’s knob and revealed a single, small diamond necklace on a gold chain. The pendant looked to be a full carat, shining its clear color against the sunlight beams through the windowpane. Sitting on the edge of the now-vacant bed, John never took his eyes off of the precious stone. It lie in his rough, calloused hands- bringing out the true beauty, being the purest thing he had ever laid eyes on. 

   In that moment, he _knew._  He knew of his fuck ups, he knew of his fibs. He knew of telling Abigail lie after lie- but the biggest one being that he loved her, just a few nights ago. John’s chest heaved in a dragging sigh- desperately trying to exhale his mistakes and misconceptions. Piddling with the gemstone, he thought of how it would feel to clasp it around ( _Y/N_ )’s neck- moving her strands of hair from her back and around her shoulder, how soft her skin felt at his fingerprints. He tucked it away, eager to get back to camp and give the gift laced with his honest feelings for her. 

   Meanwhile, Dutch finalized the bank job plans, rolled the blueprints, and ordered that they burrow under their bandannas. Dutch, Micah, Arthur, and Sadie all nodded to one another in unison of understanding it was now or never. ( _Y/N_ ) snuffed her nose under the charcoal colored cloth and hopped on the back of ( _Y/H/N_ )’s saddle, kicking them in the side to take off. 

   In perfect timing, John rode near the entrance of Clemens Point- falling in line to the gang of now six. Recognizing the sign of this force, he pulled his own coverage over the bridge of his nose and asked no questions. The ride to Rhodes was silent aside from the clopping of horseshoes- focused on the score and the score alone, knowing it might be any of their last. 

   Making sure to break away and not be so very obvious, Sadie stuck with ( _Y/N_ ) and slowed their steeds down to a trot as they passed the whitewashed town sign. She retrieved both her Cattlemen from her holsters and jumped from a still-riding Bob. Charging the bank, Sadie blew past the colonial columns and threw her shoulder into the double doors. 

   _“BANK OF RHODES”_  The bumblebee yellow embellished plates read on the black and carved clerk counter. 

   “Everyone on the ground!” Sadie screamed, pointing one gun in the air while aiming the other around the lobby. Instantly, folk fell the the patterned floor and placed their hands behind their heads. 

   Arthur climbed up the latter attached to the back of the building to keep look out on the rooftop as ( _Y/N_ ) headed in for backup, he spotted John at the town sign- watching for any upcoming lawmen. Dutch and Micah worked at dynamiting the back barrier steel gate before the second door. 

   “Micah, move!” Dutch yelled squatting at the detonator, rushing the plot along as time has proven itself not to be a friend of theirs. Plunging the stick, bricks flew through the air and smoke bellowed into the sky. “Make it quick, law’ll be here soon!” Dutch yelled to Micah. 

   Five worn vaults sat before their eyes, and Micah ran to open the connecting door for the women. Dutch pried the shanty doors open with his hands, scrapping up all bonds and bills inside, Micah went back and worked on the two remaining. 

   “We’ve got company!” John yelled to Arthur who banged on the glass dome to alert the others. Filing in from both sides, John knew his best chance out of here was to lie low and crouch back to the gang. Arthur hurried across the roof and hoofed it down the bars, running around to the beginning of the building. Both men knew that the position they were in, alone and vulnerable, were easy ways to get taken out and that were better in numbers. John found himself next to Arthur- mid front of the bank, in the dirt and dusty road. Surrounded by armed lawmen, they tracked in a circle around the pair. 

    _“VAN DER LINDE!”_  Agent Milton yelled through all of Rhodes’ landmarks. “Get out here, now!” He hissed from horseback, fed up with this notorious group. Twenty or so men followed suit, backing their horses up in an executioner’s lined style- ready to kill with their rifles. All sights were targeted on the bank’s doors. 

   In fear of not knowing John’s status, ( _Y/N_ ) ran through the opening and into the streets. A trigger-happy lad shot at the tip of her boot, just grazing her foot enough to make her drop to her knees and cry out in pain. John’s heart stopped.

   “Grab her!” Milton seethed with his tonsils, running impatient while shifting his barrel at ( _Y/N_ ) instead of Dutch’s whereabouts. Gripping arms wrapped around her body and with it came a muzzled ring imprinting her temple. John dove forward, not fast enough as Arthur’s strong clench held him still in fear of possibly losing him too. 

  _“John,”_  She cried, hyperventilating- knowing it was its ends- and dammit if God himself wasn’t going to choose a woman for him.  _“John..”_  She wailed again, scared, slow and steady tears streaming down her cheeks. 

   “Don’t worry, baby,” John replied, hushing her fears with a slight wave of his hand- choking up at the thought of what might’ve come. In that moment it felt as if it were only the two of them- talking- disregarding the chaos filled world around them. 

   “How adorable,” Milton smiled. “Outlaws in love..” He said, pausing for only a minute.  _“Do it.”_  He ordered, looking at the face that ( _Y/N_ ) felt. 

   A pull of the trigger later, blood and brain matter sprayed into John’s face, splattering some onto Arthur’s shirt as well. Arthur’s hand bore down even harder- unsure of it being a shock reaction or trying to prevent the inevitable. ( _Y/N_ )’s body fell to the ground, lifeless, John watched as what was left of her head smashed into rocks and rubble horrifically. Here lies the love of his life, the woman of his dreams- someone he would never get to hold again.

   It would have had to take four or five Arthurs to hold John down at this point, he ripped his limb from his friend and tackled the youngin’ to the ground- jamming his gun into the bottom of his chin, pulling the trigger and offering him the same fate as his beloved. Rolling his ribcage, John pointed his revolver at what he assumed to be Milton’s face before firing. Clipping his shoulder from lack of focus, Milton screamed in agony. Arthur ducked and rolled to John’s aid- taking out as many men as he could. 

   Doors swung open dramatically, and a team of Micah, Sadie and Dutch blew their bullets to the army of men. Milton yaw’ed his horse and escaped as his posse piled up upon one another. Eventually, all had either died or left. 

   With his red-vision clearing, John started to take in what all had happened. Crawling to ( _Y/N_ )’s corpse, he cradled what was left of her skull in his lap- brushing the blood stained strands from her face. Sobbing tears seeped into her still skin, John’s eyes couldn’t look anywhere but directly down. 

   “John..” Arthur tried, standing back from the scene. Sadie, Dutch and Micah circled him evenly- all individually taking in the details of their secret love and loss. When John didn’t flinch at Arthur’s words, no one else tried. Mortified at the cause of ( _Y/N_ )’s death, all members took a moment of peace to themselves. 

   “John.. We have to go.” Arthur choked up, himself. “More’re comin’.” He spoke with regret. Approaching him like a wild wolf, Arthur bent to his knees in effort to pick her up. 

   _“No!”_  John shouted at Arthur, shooting daggers at his eyes and simultaneously bursting every blood vessel and vein in his body with rage. “I can do it..” He whispered, rocking himself up with her in his arms. Lobbing her over the back of Old Boy, John patted and kissed ( _Y/H/N_ )’s face before unstrapping the saddle, throwing it to the sand, and slapping them on their ass to run off into the woods.

   Up on the hill north of camp and behind the old, abandoned and worn out Civil War-dated home, John met Arthur who had picked up a pair of shovels back at the homestead. Together, without words, they dug. 

   “I won’t be long,” John said, “Just a few days or so.” He continued, speaking with his back turned and saddling Old Boy once more. 

   “I just want you to be safe, we haven't been over there in years, John.” Abigail said, worrying about her husband’s health- clutching an overhanging shawl around her shoulders. “I still don’t know why you’re going.”

   “Just business.” He finally replied after a moment, stepping into the stirrups of his Silver Bay Saddler. He assured her that he would be alright, waved goodbye and set off for his last ride. 

   Crossing the river from Beecher’s Hope into eventually Riggs Station, John forced Old Boy to run as fast as he could over Bard’s Crossing- unbothered by a possible train coming in the times he thought back of her. South of Flatneck Station, John rode into the state of Lemoyne until he had reached the God-forsaken destination. 

   His boots hit the ground as he stepped over the rock wall, clearing the overgrown branches from his face, he stood at the end of a bed of stones- labeled with an engraved cross. Digging into his sweaty and sticky pocket, he retrieved an old gem. 

   “I know I never got to give this to you.” He started, flickering the diamond off of the sunlight like old times. “I always wanted to..” He couldn’t bring himself to see the post again- John’s eyes skimmed the lake instead. 

   “I married Abigail..” He whispered, unsure if she would have wanted to hear that or not. “I wanted to become the man that you deserved.” Tears welted in his eyes and his throat began to close. 

   “Jack’s growin’ up.” He tried to change the subject, but quickly knew that his son wasn’t ever the matter of their relationship.

   “She never knew about you, you know?” He asked her, looking the the diamond again. “Not that she needed to, but..” He was rambling. 

   “I loved you, ( _Y/N_ ).” He sobbed, being the first time that he had said her name out loud since the incident. 

    _“I loved you.”_  He cried in a yell, trying to keep it together. 

   “And I needed this..” He said, moving the necklace in the air as he spoke. “I needed it to get through these years without you.” John grew angry again, seeing her skull in his mind and annoyed with how stuttery he had become. 

   “I can’t.. hold onto it anymore, I can’t hold onto _you_  anymore.” He balled his fist around the gem. “I can’t give my all to her, if a piece of me is still with you.” John finished, taking a moment to kiss the precious piece before hanging it over the cross at sunset. 

 


End file.
